Meet the Second Players
by Rani-Girl
Summary: America just wanted to play a video game in which he was the hero. He didn't want to literally be in one. The characters weren't suppose to develop consciousness, either.
1. Accidents

**I don't own anything but the plot.**

**There is a comic on DeviantArt that inspired to make this. Despite seeing it months ago, I didn't get the idea until recently. Don't worry, I'm not plagiarizing the comic, nor trying to claim credit for the idea. I just wanted to write a story involving the 2Ps and America getting stuck in a game.**

Japan was relieved to see America's game was nearly complete. All it needed was a run through to catch and correct any bugs, then it would be ready to deliver to the hyper-active nation. He opened the programming, scanning it for any obvious errors. He would do a quick play through later to make sure he hadn't missed anything.

Over a year ago, America had asked him if he could make a video game where he was the protagonist (or, "the hero"). He wanted it to be action packed, horror filled, and "super-fantastical-awesome!" Whatever that specifically meant. Japan had asked for details when he agreed, but all the blonde told him was, "As long as I'm the hero who saves the day and beats up a ton of bad guys with really cool moves, I don't care what you do! Have fun with it, dude!"

Video games could take a long time to make depending on how long and detailed they were, and Japan was a busy nation with other duties and interests as well, so he never had a lot of time to work on the game in one sitting. It irritated him every so often how much America bothered him about the game's progress. Every time he asked, he appeared to expect the game to be done within a few hours. Not to mention, America asked at the most random times.

"Hey, Japan! Wanna grab a coffee with me? By the way, is my game done yet?"

"Haha, Tony turned Britain red, white and blue like my flag! Japan, dude, is that game finished now?"

"My boss doesn't want to get involved between you guys if this isn't settled, China, but we will stick to our alliance agreements with Japan if we need to. Which reminds me! Japan, is the game ready?"

Now that he thought about it, it wasn't so much irritating as it was exhausting. Besides, this project was difficult enough as it was.

Since it was meant solely for America and not his market (which adored Japanese video games already), Japan had struggled to design it in a way his friend would like. He had to consider America's reaction to obviously fake horror, yet fulfill his request for the genre. He had to make the battle commands exciting, but not over the top and all powerful. He wondered how much America cared for a storyline, if one at all, and what exactly would keep him interested. Japan didn't want to terrify, bore, or somehow offend his friend. Then there was the mental block on what to do next after this event.

He really wished America gave him a little more of an idea, sometimes. He even tried discussing it with him, but the younger man covered his ears like a child, wanting to keep it a surprise. That struck Japan as a little ironic, since he wanted it finished as soon as possible.

In the end, though, Japan had gotten it done. He was a bit worried how America would react to certain elements, but overall, he believed he would be happy with it. The plot focused on America's alien companion accidently transporting him and several other nations to an alternate dimension, one where the world was a much darker place. In it lived alternate versions of themselves, whose personalities and sometimes appearances differed greatly from the originals. They take the countries hostage and later try to invade the orignal dimension, and it's up to America to save them all.

Japan had sort of let his imagination run wild with this, so he hoped America wouldn't show it off to the others. He didn't want to offend them either.

He couldn't wait to hand it off to the blonde. As soon as it was in America's possession, he could return to working on his other side project, a device that would allow the user to enter a virtual world, such as an anime. He didn't actually believe such a program could exist (at least in this day and age), but it was a fun idea he could toy around with. Who knew; it might lead to future developments to create more realistic virtual entertainment one day, if not provide an actual entry way into another world.

Come to think of it...

Japan minimized the window. He opened his library, selecting the 'Virtual Reality' file. He had put so much effort into America's request without anything in return. He deserved a break to work on his own hobbies.

* * *

America was hunched over, staring at the disc case in his hands with a broad smile. His shoulders trembled for a moment, before he jumped in the air, pumping his fist. "_Yahoo! _This is great, thanks dude! You're the man!"

"I don't see how this is any different than any of my other games you have played," Japan muttered blankly, but he bowed in respect. "Thank you, America-san."

"Geez, don't be so formal about it," America said, grabbing his shoulder. "You know what I just realized? I haven't got anything to pay you back with."

"It was never a part of the agreement - "

America cut him off. "I know! I'll buy you a free hamburger, on me!"

"America-san, that is not necessary - "

"There's a McDonalds down the street, but we can go somewhere else like Wendy's or Burger King if you want," he babbled on. "There's even a Five Guys and Fries or whatever across town, I think. Anyway, it's completely up to you!"

Japan cleared his throat. "May I remind you you are hosting the world conference tomorrow? I'm sure we both have last minute preparations to attend to."

"What? Dude, I already got all that done. Besides, there's interns and assistants for a reason!"

"Well, don't you at least want to get a head start on your video game? I assure you, you won't be disappointed with it."

"That's a great idea!" America agreed. He opened his door wider. "Come on in, man. I can make dinner or something if you're still hungry."

Japan exhaled through his nose, closing his eyes for a moment. "No thank you, I am not hungry. I do in fact have last minute preparations, so I would rather return to my hotel."

"But Japan!" he whined, showing off his puppy dog eyes. "I thought we could play it together!"

Japan stiffened. "You must understand. I know the game inside and out at this point. Besides," he put on a determined face, "work takes priority over play."

America's shoulders slumped. "Meh. Fine. Have it your way." He brightened. "See ya tomorrow!" With that said and done, he slammed the door shut with more force than he intended. The hinges creaked wearily.

America set the case down on the coffee table, next to his laptop. He plopped down on the couch, pressing the button on the side that opened the disc compartment. Outside, rain started to pour, hitting his windows like little bullets. He hoped Japan didn't get caught in the storm, then chuckled at the thought of a soaked Japan. The image reminded him of a drenched cat.

He inserted the disc, closed the compartment, and waited for the pop-up. He clicked play. The screen went black, his mouse pointer turning into a blue, spinning circle as it loaded.

America couldn't wait to start playing. A game that showed off how heroic he was; it was going to be great, he knew it. He wondered if there were zombies in it. Darn, he should have thought about that when Japan asked.

The real loading screen took over the screen. America raised an eyebrow.

At the top center of the screen was a chibi drawing of himself, holding a shot gun in both hands with a cheerful yet determined look. At the bottom was a chibi that mostly resembled him, but with a different color palette. He had chocolate brown hair, tan skin, and brown eyes. Instead of normal glasses, he wore sun glasses in his hair, and instead of a gun in his hands, he had a baseball bat covered in broken nails at the end slung over his shoulder. He had a smug smirk on his face.

A line between them divided the screen in half.

On the left were chibis of the other countries he knew. From left to right was Britain, drinking tea; France, sniffing a rose; Canada, holding Kumajiro; Prussia, with that little bird on his head; Japan, wielding a katana; Germany, standing upright like a soldier; Romano, pouting; and Italy, holding a plate of pasta. The background was a soft blue sky and bright green grass.

On the other side were the same countries, only as different as the bottom America. From the left to the right, they were in the same order.

Britain had cotton pink hair, bright blue eyes, and wore a green vest over a pink shirt. He was smiling insanely, holding a plate of brightly decorated cupcakes. France looked dead in comparison to the one on the far left; his hair was lifeless, his stubble was more prominent, and his clothes were simple, faded jeans and a light blue button up shirt. He scowled his Britain's direction. Canada was more buff, but not like Germany or Sweden. His hair was longer, pulled up in a short, loose ponytail, and another pair of sunglasses covered his eyes. He had the uniform of the Canadian Royal Mounted Police, save the hat. His face was stern.

Prussia's hair was a bit longer, just enough to cover his ears, and about as messy as Britain's. There was a small scar on the side of his face, going over to and above his ear, under the hair. He wore a white shirt with a black cross, black jeans, and no shoes. His eyes were darted to the right, as if he was nervous. An eagle was perched on his shoulder. Japan looked pretty much the same, aside from the red eyes, glare, and black version of his World War II uniform. Germany had also had a scar, this one on his left (America's right) cheek. He wore a plain white wife beater, a khaki, square cap, with a matching coat hung over his shoulders, and brown pants. He had a mocking expression, arms crossed over his chest.

The Italy brothers were wearing matching tan uniforms, Romano's darker than Italy's. They wore jackets over black shirts and ties, belts over their waist instead of holding up their matching pants, and little hats. Romano smiled politely, despite the throwing knives held between his fingers. Italy had a dangerous, little smile on his face, eyes open, and he held a hand knife lazily.

"Cool," America said to himself, a smile spreading across his face.

Thunder sounded loudly outside. It boomed, as if someone was shooting dozens of guns off. Lightning struck, lighting up the room as the windows went pure white. The power went out.

America shot up in the darkness. His hands grabbed at his scalp. "NO!"

His laptop had went off with the power. This had better not ruin his computer or the game, he thought. He needed to mess with the fuse box, fast. He carefully ran for the kitchen to look for a flashlight, then moved towards the basement door.

Another bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. The ear-piercing thunder was enough for the deaf wince from the noise. A third strike hit the electrical box outside as America made his way down the stairs. For a second, all the appliances in house turned back on. America jumped in fright, clutching the railing and flashlight for dear life.

In the living room, the charger plugged into the wall jolted. The laptop screen turned from solid black to a frenzy of black and white squares that just as soon turned a royal purple. And just like that, the lightning was gone and everything went out again, including the laptop.

Within the next few minutes, America had caught his bearings, fumbled around with the fuse box, and returned to the living room with the power back on. He sat back down in his spot. His computer was pretty much dead, so he restarted it. He tapped his foot on floorboards in impatience until he was finally able to restart Japan's game.

He clicked play. Like before, the screen went black and the mouse pointer changed. However, instead of the loading screen appearing, an electrical jolt leaped from the keyboard to America's waiting finger tips. An unseen force pushed him backwards, head thrown back, mouth open in mid-gasp. He fell against the back of the couch. His eyes closed, mouth shut, and his chest resumed breathing normally, his body limp.

* * *

"The world conference will now begin," Germany announced, taking charge after an awkward few minutes without the host country's flamboyant introduction. "Our first order of business: where is America?"

"He is probably at McDonalds getting more that greasy slime called food," France remarked in amusement.

"Maybe he is struck in traffic?" Finland guessed.

"Or something happened to him," Russia suggested pleasantly. "He does have the high crime rate in the world,_ da?_"

"That lazy git," Britain mumbled. "He better get here soon. This is no way for a host country to act."

"Like, he could be playing video games," Poland put in.

Japan flinched.

China cocked his head. "Japan, is something the matter?"

"One should make a point not to be late to meetings, period," Austria asserted.

"Who cares?" South Korea waved his hand. "I mean, Greece here is sleeping."

He blinked, as if realizing what he just said, and hurried to climb over the table. China leaped out of his chair to snatch him up by the waist, holding him close. South Korea kicked and flailed, whining about claiming breasts. Egypt threw a stick at his head. Turkey laughed.

"What are you all talking about?" Cuba demanded. "He's right there!"

He hit the table and pointed at Canada. Canada shivered.

France frowned. "There's someone sitting there?"

Japan sighed in relief.

Britain was already on his feet. "You idiot, what are you doing? You're supposed to be up there!" He jerked his arm in the direction of the podium.

"I'm not America!" Canada yelled in a whisper frantically. "I'm Canada!"

"Who?" Kumajiro asked.

"Canada, Kumajori! I just said that."

"America is being awfully quiet," Italy mentioned. "_Ve_, he must not be feeling well."

Japan's expression was guilty now. China was too busy with South Korea to notice.

"No, I'm Canada," he insisted.

"Poor America," Ukraine sniffled, unable to hear him.

"Oh, I see him, now," France said. "I do not believe you people think that's America."

Britain turned on him. "How do you not see America there!?"

"Well," the Frenchman stood up as well, "I don't recall you catching him at first, either, Mr. Wannabe-French!"

"Who said I wanted to be French!?"

"You are always trying to copy my style!"

"Why on earth would I want to be like you, with your frog legs, Frog?" Britain denied.

The two lunged for each other.

"This is getting out of control," Spain commented. "Hey, Belarus, what do you think?"

"I think you should stop talking to me," she said. "That goes for you, too." She dropped Lithuania's now broken wrist.

He didn't seem to care.

"America, if you are under the weather," Russia started, "perhaps you would like a Russian cure?"

"Wh-what!?" Canada squeaked. "France! Tell them it's me already," he begged.

"Sorry, I am fighting Britain right now," he replied. "You have terrible cooking!"

"And you're a sissy haired freak!"

"You attempted to copy my 'sissy' hair, you punk!"

"AI_-YAH_!" China screamed, releasing South Korea and waving his hand around wildly. "He bit me!"

And just like that, fights everywhere started to break out.

Canada slumped in his chair. "Why doesn't any ever hear me, Kumatoro?"

"Who are you, again?"

Canada sighed. He took his cell phone out from his pocket. He speed dialed his brother's cell. He got his voice mail. He tried the landline. The message machine told him to call back later when the hero was home. While Germany took charge again, he texted his brother.

_Hey, where are u at? You're missing the world meeting. Ppl think I'm you._

There was no response right away, so he tucked the phone away, hoping he would either get a reply or America showed his face before the meeting ended.

* * *

Nothing. America didn't call or text back, nor did he come in late. Canada was getting worried. As unlikely as it was, Russia could be right - America could have seriously hurt himself. What if all those years of eating nothing but junk and his citizens' bad habits finally caught up to him? He might be in need a hospital because he had a heart attack this morning.

He had to visit his house. No one else would, since they all believed he was him. His brother needed him, Canada decided.

"America-san."

Canada deflated. Kumajiro glanced up at him. The blonde turned around to see who was addressing him. Japan came to a stop. He gave Canada an tight, apologetic smile.

"I am sorry for the inconvience," he said. "I am assuming the video game was too much for you? I did not mean to make it so frightening."

Canada had no idea what he was talking about, but now he had a better idea of where his brother was. Hiding under his blanket, shuddering, like he always did when he saw something scary. Hoser.

"Japan," he started. "Listen very carefully to what I'm about to say."

Japan nodded, allowing him to speak.

He spoke slowly. "I'm not America. I'm Canada, his brother and northern neighbor."

Japan's brow furrowed for a second. They relaxed and his cheeks tinted red. "I apologize, Canada-san. I wasn't aware he had a brother. You two just look so much alike."

"It's okay. I get this a lot."

"Where is he, then, do you know?"

"I was about to check his house..."

"May I go with you?"

Canada started. Upon realizing what his brother was most likely up to, he was just going to his hotel room. Well, it never hurt to check. After all, what if it was the Japanese horror that triggered his sugar-induced heart attack?

* * *

_**Da**_** - Russian; 'yes'**

_**Ve**_** - Italian; the equivalent of 'well'**

**No, I didn't switch between technology and nature transporting America into the game. It was a combination that will be explained later on.**

**Hope you enjoyed.**


	2. Coma

Canada and Japan found America's front door unlocked. The house was in order, nothing broken or out of place. America was sitting up on the couch, head lolling to the side, asleep. In front of him on the coffee table was a sleeping laptop.

"I knew it," Canada groaned. "He was up all night goofing off. I can't believe he did this."

Japan shook his friend's shoulder. "America-san, it is time to wake up now."

America didn't stir.

Canada placed Kumajiro on the cushion next to his brother. "Hey bro, we brought McDonalds for you." Still nothing. "Huh. I was sure that would work."

Japan poked his cheek. "It's almost five o'clock. Assuming he waited until morning to catch up on his sleep, he's had at least eight hours."

"Eh, he can be a really heavy sleeper sometimes. Should we just leave him?"

"It can't be healthy to sleep this long during the day. Besides, he won't be able to sleep tonight and will make this a habit."

As they talked, Kumajiro crawled into America's lap. He put his front paws on the blonde's chest and sniffed his face. "He smells gross. Like sweat and meat. Do we have to stay here?"

His owner chuckled at the comment. "Sorry, buddy."

The bear maneuvered himself around to climb down America's leg. He walked across the room, heading for the stairs. Canada's eyes followed him.

"Where are you going, Kumalyro?"

"To explore."

"Don't go too far or get into any trouble," the blonde warned. "This isn't our home."

Kumajiro pulled himself onto the first step, then the second. "Okay. Who are you again?"

"Canada!" He shifted his attention to his brother. "So, how are we going to wake him up? I swear, he sleeps with a gun on him, and I don't want to be shot at because we surprised him. Trust me, he's done it before."

Japan recoiled his outstretched arm. "Erm, in that case, perhaps we should call in someone more...aggressive."

The northern nation nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'll call Britain. If anyone can wake up America, he can."

* * *

It turned out Britain wasn't at all pleased to find out America had skipped the conference he was supposed to be hosting in order to catch up on the sleep he missed playing a Japanese video game all night. It made it worse that he now knew he failed to realize America actually had been absent, instead mistaking Canada for him.

"You lazy, irresponsible, prat! You're roughly four hundred years old. When are you going to start acting like it? Are you that daft!?" Britain yelled, shaking America by the shirt collar. _"I don't believe you! _I raised you better than that, didn't I?"

"Maple," Canada muttered from his spot off to the side with Japan.

He expected Britain's temper to flare, but not on this level. He was kind of more surprised America slept through it, though. Not only could the man be just as loud, but America never missed an opportunity to annoy him further. Not that this wasn't annoying, but...

"I'm starting to think he was not the best role model," the Asian nation whispered to him.

Canada shrugged. "Well, you're not _entirely_ wrong."

Britain's head snapped to the side, a dangerous glint in his eye. "What are you two going on about?"

They stiffened. "Nothing."

He glared down at his once brother. "Well? Are you going to keep pretending to be asleep or are you going to take responsibility?"

"Britain-san, surely you don't think he's faking at this point," Japan said.

"I wonder why he hasn't gotten up yet," Canada added. "He's not that heavy of a sleeper or very good at pretending to be."

Britain's face relaxed. He considered their words, looking back and forth between them and America, who was still breathing softly. He pressed his lips in a firm line, mulling something over in his head. Then he adjusted his grip so he was holding the younger man's shirt collar in one hand, raised the other, and -

_Smack!_

America's head lolled to the other side, his cheek red. He didn't pull out a gun in self-defense. (In truth, he kept the gun in his bedroom, not on his person.) He didn't jolt, gasp, or even flutter his eyelids. His chest continued to rise and fall in even breaths.

"He's definitely unconscious," the green eyed man confirmed and scowled at Japan. "What the _hell_ did you put in that game to scare him so silly!?"

"W-well..." Japan stuttered in response to the sudden outburst, kneeling down next to the coffee table, "let's check."

He didn't realize it was a rhetorical question Britain meant sarcastically.

While he played with the laptop mouse to wake the sleeping device, Canada reached for his cell phone.

"I'm calling for an ambulance," he said, voice a bit higher than normal. "There's gotta be something wrong, medically."

"Good idea," Britain agreed. "There's no way he would keep up this sort of prank after being hit. You said he's been out all day?"

"We think so." Canada put his phone to his ear. "Hel- oh," he stopped short, listening to the operator speak.

Japan frowned at the desktop. The pop-up that gave the option to either play or cancel was in the center of screen. That wasn't right. If America had fallen asleep playing, it should have showed the actual game. If he had turned it off to go to sleep, he wouldn't have tried to restart it. Had he turned the game off only to change his mind, but then fell asleep anyway? It didn't sound likely to him.

Suspicious, he clicked play. Behind him, Canada was explaining to the operator that his brother wasn't displaying any obvious symptoms of whatever was wrong - he wasn't changing color, hadn't stopped breathing, and wasn't convulsing - he just wouldn't wake up. Britain moved America's body so it was lying down rather than sitting up, gently placing his head on the couch pillow. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the loading screen.

"Japan, you know this isn't the time for - What is that? Is that supposed to be me!?"

Canada covered his other ear with his hand and made his way into the kitchen.

"Britain-san, it's not what it looks like," Japan hurried to say. "He asked me to - "

"To portray me as a feminine lunatic?" he raved, then eyed the alternate France. "What happened to the frog?"

Just as he predicted when he made the game, it offended someone. How troublesome. Japan moved aside to allow Britain to see the full screen so he could better understand.

"America asked me to make him a game where he was the main character. Since it involved him, I decided to put others in it as well," he explained.

Britain blinked. "And those versions?"

"They are part of the plot."

Britain shook his head furiously. "Alright, alright. Never mind that. We need to focus on the real America's health right now. Where did Canada go?"

Having hung up, the northern nation came back into the room. He tucked his phone away. "An ambulance is on its way. They said not to move him around too much or try to wake him again until they figure out what it is."

"I wonder what the possibility is this is his government's doing," the Englishman mused. "He's not in terrible condition. We would know if he was. If a crippling law was passed recently, it would be much too soon for such a drastic effect on his body."

"Maybe he ate some bad food," Canada threw in.

"As much I think he would eat spoiled food, where do you get the idea it would put him in a comatose state?"

"Uh, there was that incident between you and Prussia..."

The game finished loading, changing to the main menu. The countries and their alternates were scattered around the screen, against a grey background. Intimidating music blew through the speakers. Japan selected 'Load Game.' The save files popped up, all empty. America had never saved. That in itself wasn't so strange, but considering America's condition and the state the game had been left in, it didn't seem right.

On a hunch, Japan went back and picked 'New Game.'

"What are we going to do about the next two days? If he doesn't get up soon, he'll miss the rest of the conference," the conversation behind him continued.

"I just hope he isn't out that long."

"Has this ever happened before to a country?"

Britain folded his arm with a cross glare. "Oh, besides the incident with Prussia eating my cooking?"

"I said I was sorry." Canada sat himself on the couch arm. "Hey, Japan, what are you up to?"

"Are you still playing that? Turn it off," Britain scolded. "We have a serious case here."

"I am aware of that," he replied. "I just had a thought."

"Edit your game later!"

"I am not editing."

The opening cutscene began. In the right hand bottom corner was the skip option. Japan moved the mouse to click on it, until he saw the America model moving on its own. It and the other models of the former Axis and Allies, which were standing in America's backyard. The blonde nation was standing next to his alien friend and between them was an odd looking machine glowing blue. The America model was supposed to be smiling proudly, excited at what its character had to announce. Instead, it was moving its head in every direction, confused.

The text box below read, _"Hey, dudes! Tony here's been holding out on me. This machine here can teleport you to alternate dimensions. Isn't that so cool? I can be the hero in another world that needs my heroic savings!"_ It waited for a random click anywhere to move on to the next sequence.

The model opened its mouth. "Where the hell am I? Hey, I changed my clothes!"

Japan stumbled against the couch. He had installed the sound effects and music when he made it. He hadn't recorded voice actors, much less one that imitated his friend perfectly.

Britain cupped his chin in disapproval. "Honestly."

"Japan, are you okay?" Canada leaned forward, concerned.

"Hey, why are you all staring at me like that? Did Tony freeze you? Hahahaha! Okay, dude, great prank. You brought me here, too, right? You can let them go now." The model waved a hand in the alien's face. "Huh? You frozen, too? Not funny, man, not funny. C'mon! Is this because I paid more attention to Whale Dude last week? He was sick, you know that!"

"That's a weird start," Canada commented.

"Who cares about the bloody game?" Britain was about to flip his lid. "What did the operator say to do until the ambulance gets here again? In fact, why aren't we the ones taking him to the hospital? He could be dying right now!"

"Calm down." The North American held up his hands in surrender. "Since he's not having a seizure, turning blue, or anything, they said it was better to wait. We might hurt him by accident if we rush him to one of our cars."

"How would we hurt him!? I already slapped him!"

The model walked around the yard, poking and prodding the others.

This hadn't happened when Japan did a quick play through at home. The model did as it was supposed to, there were no voices. It worked fine. He thought back to his Virtual Reality program. He had played with it while working on America's request. It was possible a glitch occurred or he somehow accidentally mixed the files together. Either way, his favorite side project wasn't even close to being finished, let alone able to work. Besides, why had it sucked America in, but not him?

Japan couldn't help taking a moment for himself to think of the opportunities this presented. It had the potential to be used for other products. Other countries would want to buy them. He could already see his economy booming because of the innovation. However, that was for another time. At the moment, it was essential he get America out of there. Who knew how the United States would fair with their personification trapped in a computer game.

Outside, sirens sounded. Flashes of red, white, and blue peered through the windows.

"Finally!" Britain exclaimed. "I was beginning to think they lost the address!"

"I'll get the door," Canada offered, already on his way.

"Dudes!" America screeched behind the screen. "Knock it off! _You're seriously freaking me out!_ What's going on!?"

Japan paused the game. To his satisfaction, the model his friend was possessing froze with the rest of the scene. He closed and unplugged the laptop, intending to take it with him to the hospital. This was going to be difficult to explain to the others.

* * *

Britain paid close attention to the nurse rattle off the possible causes of America's condition, growing increasingly frustrated as she refuted each with a reason said cause wasn't the case.

It couldn't be head trauma. There were no signs of injury on the exterior or interior of his skull. (Bullocks - America had a thick head.) It couldn't be any form of intoxication. According to his blood work, he didn't show any abnormal levels of drug use that could have explained an overdose, and his glucose levels were high, but nowhere near being dangerous. (Oh, please - his country had plenty of drug problems and Britain was sure his eating habits were going to kill him someday.) A stroke was out of the question. He didn't display a single alarming red flag. (Drat.)

In other words, America was just short of perfect health.

"His airways are open, he's breathing, and he has good circulation. Oxygen is getting to his brain fine," she finished. "For now, we can't be sure what caused his ARAS to fail."

"His what?" Japan spoke up for the first time since they arrived.

"Ascending reticular activating system," the nurse broke it down. "In short, it's what wakes the body up."

Britain closed his eyes and pinched his nose. There was nothing noticeably wrong. Wonderful. On one hand, that was a blessing because it meant it was his country's fault rather than his body's. On the other hand, it was a curse for the same reason. They all had been around long enough to know these kinds of problems, whatever they may be, didn't go away over night.

"Are you sure there isn't anything from his history you might have missed or forgotten to tell us? Whatever you can think of would be a great help," she reminded him.

"No," he snapped, opening his eyes to glare at her. "Nothing I know of, at least."

The nurse nodded, most likely sensing his foul mood. "You can see him if you like."

"Thank you."

Britain moved briskly past her, Canada and Japan following, the latter clutching America's laptop under his arm. He didn't know why he bothered to bring it. That wasn't important right now, though, so he let it go. All that mattered was figuring out what exactly happened to America.

"So it was his country, then," Canada whispered, clutching Kumajiro. "We have to break it to his boss. I almost don't want to know how everyone'll react to the news. I have a feeling it won't end well."

Britain opened America's door, stepping aside to allow the other two to enter before himself, and shut the door behind him. He sighed at the sight of his former little brother in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines. The idiot could break his foot slipping on a banana peel for ice cream; what could he have done to cause this?

"We've got to inform his government," he announced. "It's obvious the situation is more political than medical."

Canada frowned. "I just said that!"

Britain and Japan both did a double take.

"You came along?" the Englishman asked. "I thought you stayed behind. How were you able to remain unnoticed with that bear of yours? The hospital staff can't let you bring an animal in here."

Canada's cheeked flamed. "Are you calling Kinajiro unclean?"

The Asian country cleared his throat before an argument could break out between the two.

"I have something important to tell you two," he said. "I wanted to wait until after there was a medical diagnose to explain, in case I was wrong or it gave us more information."

"This had better not have to do with your blasted video game," Britain warned. "There's no way it scared him into a coma."

Besides, the last thing he wanted to hear about was that.

To be honest, he was surprised how calm he himself was. The idea of America in a coma made his BONES shiver, for god's sake. The blonde may be an irritating, immature, insufferable pillock, but he cared for him. The man used to be his little brother; he had raised him. Comas could last very long times for normal humans. Who knew how long a country could be in one at the most. Hundreds of years? Then there was the real world effect on the country to think about. Britain could have sworn he felt his heart racing his throat.

(When he woke up, America was never finding out about this, he thought.)

"Please, just listen," Japan pleaded. "I swear, what I have to say is relevant."

Canada nodded, moving closer to his unconscious brother's side. He adjusted Kumajiro to his hip, supported by one arm, and gripped the attached bar with his newly free one. "Alright, go ahead."

Britain folded his hands behind his back, eyes purposely avoiding America's form. "Go on."

Japan sat in one of the chairs by the bedside. He opened the laptop and furrowed his brow.

"I don't suppose either of you know his password," he said.

"Try 1-2-3," the Englishman snorted.

He tapped his foot against the tile floor, more out of as a distraction than impatience.

"It's Fireworks124," Canada informed them. "He thought it was so clever he called me to brag. He told me he was changing it when he realized he said it out loud, but he probably forgot."

Britain rolled his eyes. Even in a coma, America knew how to sting him with his revolution. Well, he wasn't going to crumble at being reminded. Never mind that his legs were wobbling and his nose was running now.

Japan typed it in. "He didn't forget."

"Put in Fir- yaahh," Britain wiped his nose with a handkerchief he took from inside his suite. "Fireworks125," he threw out quickly. He sneezed into the handkerchief, making a disgusted face at the blood he saw when he pulled back.

Japan tried it. "It worked."

"So, does America's laptop have a file or browsing history that'll give us a clue as to what happened?" Canada asked.

The folded skin on his pinkie and thumb were going red, fading into white up to the knuckles from griping the bar.

The Asian turned the computer so they could see the paused game screen.

Britain curled his lip in disdain. Of course. He couldn't see for the life of him what had gotten into the usually sane and reliable Japanese's head, but it was really getting on his nerves the more he brought it up. This had nothing to do with the twit's condition.

"America is in here," he told them. "As in, he's literally been transported in the video game."

Canada jerked his head back, brow furrowed in a disbelieving expression. No doubt, he either had trouble processing Japan's words or was convinced the man wasn't in the right mind anymore.

Meanwhile, Britain lost it. That was the last straw.

He burst out laughing.

* * *

**Man, this chapter didn't want to come out right at first. It ran pretty smoothly when I got to Britain's point of view, but it still kind of bugs me. I want them to be worried, but not seem like they're going to start running around the streets naked and sputtering gibberish over a little thing. Ah, well. That's what critiques in reviews are for. If that or the flow doesn't come off as right to you, let me know and I'll see what I can do.**

**Next chapter should be the last one before we switch to America's point of view, if not the one.**


	3. How Fun

Canada shifted his gaze from the Asian to the Brit. He didn't like that mocking laughter. Britain was already in a terrible mood considering the situation and sarcasm was one of his favorite outlets to express himself. While what Japan said was ridiculous and he himself was having a hard time comprehending what the man was doing, it was verbal suicide to say so in front of the stressed blonde. It was times like these Canada was glad people forgot him, rare as those were. He hated fighting. Nevertheless, it wasn't the time for one.

"Britain," he tried to capture his attention.

He was ignored.

"Of all the people to joke around - of all the people to joke around at the _worst of times!_ - " Britain voice heightened, "I would not have pegged you as one them! What exactly are you playing at? Has your anime and time with this twit," he jerked his thumb at America, "turned your brain into a pile of mush? Do you need to be committed?"

If Japan took offense, he didn't show it.

"I can prove it," he stated blankly.

"Please do," the Englishman challenged.

He turned the computer around in his lap and clicked the mouse. America's obnoxious voice flooded through the speakers.

_"Oh my god, I FROZE, TOO! Tony, this isn't funny!"_ it wailed.

Japan turned the computer back around. The in-game America was bouncing everywhere, stretching his muscles, flailing his limbs, and purposely hitting himself against his house. The rest of the characters were perfectly still. Japan tapped his finger against the text box, emphasizing the large, white, capital letters that were easily readable from where Canada was standing.

"You see?" Japan asked. "What the America model is doing doesn't match the text or the other characters movements, or lack thereof, and I can assure you, America did not provide his voice. There aren't meant to be any voices because I didn't record any."

Canada didn't have a response to that. If he hadn't known better, he would've thought it was a couple of glitches, but he had played enough video games to know glitches like _voice acting _didn't exist. However, that still didn't make what he said make sense. It was impossible to be inside a video game. He looked over at Britain for his reaction.

The green eyed man face darkened, but he lost most of his scowl in favor of a suspicious glare. He shot a side-long glance at America, darted his eyes back to the screen, and lifted them up up to Japan's.

"First of all," he started in a calm yet daring tone, "that just doesn't happen. Second, are you two in league with each other here? Did he set this up with the hospital so you could convince me that your home made video game sucks people in, only to shoot up and scare me so he can have a good laugh? Well, it won't work!"

The Asian made no gesture to signify he was guilty of the accusation. He sat as still as the in-game characters stood, and spoke with confidence, "We did not plan this. I take world conferences more seriously than that, Britain-san."

"America can be very persuasive when he wants to be. Besides, he's guilt-tripped you before," Britain reminded him, just as confident.

"You guys," Canada tried again.

Kumajiro tilted his head. "Who are you?"

Japan cut to the chase rather than continue their stare down. "For the past year and a half or so, I've been working on a new program to transport a person into a virtual world, like an anime. It was only a hobby; we don't have the technology in present times to create such a device, I'm aware. While I was finishing up America's request, I may have linked the files by accident. I don't know how or why it was just him, but he really was 'sucked' - as you put it - inside." He spoke with enough security that he must be either right or had gone crazy.

Canada wasn't sure what to think. On one side, he didn't believe it. On the other, stranger events had occurred with his brother in the center. America's best friend was an alien and a whale lived in his backyard pool, after all. Besides, Japan wasn't one to joke around; at the most, he could be unintentionally silly. In reality, he really wasn't one to take serious situations lightly. Then there was what the nurse said about his brother's condition, ruling out several of the most common causes of comas.

Britain appeared to have similar thoughts. Although he didn't lose the glare, he relaxed his muscles and averted his eyes. "I'm honestly supposed to believe this utter nonsense. Your little project wasn't even working due to the lack of proper technology."

"It is the truth."

Meanwhile, the in-game America had plopped himself down in the grass between the in-game China and Italy. Canada heard him mumble to himself, unable to make out the words.

"Supposing this is the truth..." Britain hesitated. "How do you plan to get him back in his body?"

Japan's blank expression melted into an unsure one. "I don't know. My original programs for both projects are at my home and I don't know how I could configure with what I have without harming him indirectly."

Britain's dark gaze returned, hands clenched. "So we leave him there!? Do you expect his government to take that sitting down!?"

"I said I don't know. Please, allow me to try," he said. "We have two more days before the conference ends and his government expects to him to contact them."

Britain made an unpleasant noise in his throat, but relented. "Alright. I'll take of what needs to be done in his absence. Do I need to make an excuse for your absence as well?"

He shook his head. "I don't intend to miss the meetings. That will make it more suspicious."

"You're not giving yourself a lot of time here," the Englishman remarked.

"I know."

"It's settled, then. Until the end of the conference, America isn't in a coma, he's merely - well, I'll come up with that later. However, that man in the bed is Alfred Jones, not the personification of the United States. He's a normal patient as far as the others are concerned." Britain sighed, rubbing his temples. "This won't be easy at all."

* * *

The trio left the hospital shortly after, leaving America's body in the capable hands of the medical staff. As his "brothers," if anything made a turn for the worst or he gave signs of waking up, the hospital would call Britain and Canada right away. They would quickly inform Japan afterwards. While Canada wasn't sure where his old caretaker went, he and Japan had headed straight to their hotel rooms. It was getting late, the sun preparing to set for the night, and they both had work to be done.

Kumajiro was sprawled on the bed, waiting for his dinner. The quiet country placed a dish of chopped up fish and different berries on the floor. He didn't want a mess on the blankets. He picked up the bear sat him next to it. The bear dug in.

"Is What's-His-Face going to die?" he asked between bites.

"Don't talk like that, please, Kumagigi."

"Sorry." He paused to devour another mouthful. "Who are you?"

"Canada," he replied, running a hand through his hair. "I tell you that all the time."

"Oh. Aren't you hungry?"

He knew he should eat, but his stomach wasn't feeling too up to it. "Not really."

Kumajiro accepted that. "Okay."

The room was silent after that, aside from the bear's munching. Canada flipped on the TV to catch the local news. Nothing much of interest was on, so he switched to the national news stations. People were complaining about immigrants at the southern border on one channel, a group was shown celebrating the shot down ban of same-sex marriage in one state on another, and a third was going on about a man who left his toddler son in a car for hours.

Canada watched the hosts listen to the guest speakers bicker over each other for a while. When Kumajiro finished his meal, he cleaned up and let him on the bed again. It was dark out by that point, the city lights and numerous car head lights illuminating the night sky. He remembered he had papers, charts, and notes to review for the next day's meeting where he himself was scheduled to speak, so he pulled them out and set to work.

However, Canada had a problem concentrating. He couldn't get his mind off his brother. There was nothing he could do, he knew, whether or not America was actually in a video game. Canada wasn't very computer savvy, nor were comas easy to wake up from. The idea was mind boggling, though. He couldn't wrap his brain around it. Stranger things had happened, it was true, yet this was a whole different level. No one would go this far for a prank (except in cartoons), especially Japan.

It wasn't that he doubted him; it was that nothing like this had ever happened. Canada believed him, he just needed to see the proof for himself again - make sure this was the reality of the situation to ingrain it in his brain.

He looked at the clock. It wasn't too late yet. He had time before he should get some rest for the next day. Canada twisted his torso to see Kumajiro curled up on his pillow, passed out asleep. His lips twitched up in a smile. He would be right back.

Canada stood up, picked up his room key, and left, locking the door behind him. Japan's room was three doors closer to the elevator than his. He knocked on it. There was a sound of running feet and the door was opened to reveal a giddy Italy.

"Hey, America!" he greeted loudly. "You're feeling better!"

From the bed across the room, Japan stared gawked at him, bewildered.

Canada frowned. "I'm Canada."

Italy smiled brightly."That's a funny name to change your name to."

"I'm America's _brother_," he corrected. "Like how Romano's your brother."

Italy opened his mouth in the shape of an 'o.' He smiled again. "So, you're like the south that tried to be your own country but got your butt kicked? Or are you the west that was bought from France and stolen from Mexico like Mexico always says? 'Cause I've never seen you before."

He peered over Italy's shoulder, silently asking for help.

Japan relaxed. "Italy-kun, he's America-san's northern..." he trailed off, uncertain. Canada nodded. "Neighbor. In the same way Austria-san and Switzerland-san are your northern neighbors."

Italy tilted back his head to look at Japan. "_Ve_, why didn't he say so?"

"May I please come in?" the blonde asked.

_"Hai._ Please, come in," Japan replied politely.

Italy stepped aside, allowing the taller nation to pass. He leaped for the bed, shaking the mattress. Japan leaned away, lifting the laptop in his lap in the air. Canada walked over to his side to see how he was doing. He recognized his brother's Captain America background. The game was minimized, its icon at the bottom of the screen. A smaller window seemingly filled with random numbers and letters was open - the program?

"I would appreciate it if you refrained from doing that," the Asian informed the brunette.

"Hehe," Italy giggled. "Sorry."

"I would've thought you'd be with Germany," Canada commented.

"Germany said he has a terrible migraine and has to get up a lot earlier tomorrow than we did today, so he kicked me out into the hallway's opposite wall after I accidentally spilled pasta sauce on his bed so I came to sleep with Japan!" he explained all in one breath.

"I didn't let him in," Japan added in a mutter, almost to himself. "He popped out of nowhere. It would be rude to ask him to leave and sleep alone so I can attend to more important matters without interruption, so I have yet to ask him to leave."

Canada shifted his weight uncomfortably.

The Asian clicked on the video game icon. The in-game America was crouched in front of the machine, examining it, paused with the scene.

"Ooo!" Italy shot up, supporting his upper body with his arms. "Is that the video game America told me you were making for him? _Ve_, that doesn't sound like more important matters."

Japan didn't respond to the playful teasing.

"Hey, that's me!" He pointed to his character, standing closest to the machine with Germany and China's, in front of Japan's. "When are you going to be done making it, Japan?"

"On the contrary, I already finished it," he told him, about to minimize the game so he could go back to the open program.

Italy brightened. "I want to play! I want to see what I do!"

He snatched the computer out of the other's hands. The non-Europeans started. Japan reached for the laptop. Italy rolled his legs off the bed, darting across the room. America cries of having been frozen again echoed off the walls, indicating the brunette had unpaused him. Italy raised his eyebrows at the game. He pressed the right side of the mouse rapidly, fast-forwarding through the cutscenes. America yelled about how everyone was talking too fast, not making sense, and moving around all of a sudden.

"Russia, China, where are you going!? Prussia, get away from that machine! It'll freeze you! Britain, listen to me!"

"I got eaten by the blue thing!" Italy exclaimed.

Canada barely gave it a thought. He was across the room in an instant, gripping the back of the screen, and tugged.

Italy yelped. "Ghost! Germany, help!"

He released the laptop and threw himself to the side. Canada's arm were already pulling back with enough force to rip it out of the European's hands. With Italy already gone and no other force pulling back, Canada ended up tripping himself, falling over on his butt. The computer flew out of his hands, over his head. It landed on its side a few feet away from the bed.

Japan picked it up. Canada pushed himself up, hurrying to his side. The game had shut off completely. He played with the mouse. It was fidgety, hardly moving at times, flying in the opposite direction at others.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Italy fretted. "I didn't mean it, I'm so sorry! I - " He cocked his head at their dismayed expression. "You look like I killed your best friend."

The two snapped their heads up.

Italy shuddered at their haunting gazes.

Japan took a deep breath. "Italy-kun."

He brightened at the affectionate term.

"You came in here to sleep, correct?"

"Yeah, yeah!"

"Please go to sleep."

"Okay!" Overjoyed at being forgiven, he twirled his way over the bed, slipped under the covers, and almost immediately fell asleep with a smile on his face.

The other two exchanged glances.

"I hope transferring it to my laptop doesn't hurt America-san," Japan sighed, pushing the button to open the compartment. The very edge jutted out. "_Nani?_" He pushed it back in and pressed the button. Only the edge popped out. "This isn't happening."

Canada moaned. "It's jammed."

Japan used his nails to try to yank the rest of the compartment out. It wouldn't budge. He sat down on the bed and moved the mouse around. It took a few minutes to restart the game.

"What are you doing?"

"Making sure he is okay."

The game loaded. After another moment of unnecessary mouse wiggling, he managed to select new game.

"Do you think the game broke at all?" Canada asked.

Japan shrugged. "Let's hope not."

The cutscene popped up. America's shoulders slumped and he whined. "Not again!"

The text box read, _"Hey, dudes! Tony here's been holding out on me. This machine here can teleport you to alternate dimensions. Isn't that so cool? I can be the hero in another world that needs my heroic savings!"_

Without clicking the screen, the Russia model chuckled. The text changed to the next box. _"Perhaps you should move there permanently."_

America blinked. "Not again! Why are you guys talking so weird?"

Britain crossed his arms. _"Do you have to show off your alien every chance you get? The Pictionians were one thing, but this?"_

"Dude!"

"You're not doing that," the northern North American reported, stunned.

_"Hai_, you're right." Japan was just as stunned.

"Ve_, is it dangerous?"_ The Italy model moved closer to the Germany model.

_"I'm not going near an alien death trap!"_ the Romano model declared.

America hung his head. "I don't understand you guys."

"Can he hear them?" Canada asked.

"I - I can't say," Japan answered. He pushed the pause button. The scene didn't stop. He pressed the escape key. It didn't want to be pushed down - America must have broken it somehow. "The game is going on its own, the mouse isn't working properly, and we can't get the disc out. I'm at a loss."

_"What is that supposed to mean, _mon ami?" The France model stared at America in confusion.

America grabbed bundles of his own hair. "I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Perhaps we should ask Estonia for assistance," the Asian suggested. "He knows computers better than most."

Canada scratched his head. "Maybe. Yeah. You know what rooms he's in?"

"No."

He shook his head. This wasn't going to be a fun night at all.

* * *

America decided to ignore the ramblings of his fellow nations. He had no idea how he got in his backyard with them and Tony, but right now, he didn't care. Whatever kept freezing them and making everyone else repeat themselves (he was sure it was that glowing machine) was going to start up again, he knew it. He wasn't going to wait for it.

America trotted over to his back door. He pulled on the door knob.

"Oh, come on! Who locked my door?"

Russia and China shoved him out of their way.

"Hey!"

Russia opened the door, held it for China, and followed him in. America lunged for the door, wondering how they opened it when he couldn't. He caught it, only for it to slip through his fingers. _Literally through his fingers._

"WHAT THE HELL!?" he screamed.

Prussia laughed in the background. "What's this button do?"

America kicked the door. He rammed his shoulder into it, twisted the knob so hard it was a wonder it didn't break off, and used his foot as leverage to ram the door again. Nothing.

The wind picked up with unusual strength. It ripped America away from the house, pulling him to the machine with the others. America felt himself hit concrete instead of metal. He was on the ground. The blonde sat up, looking around. He was in an empty street in a neighborhood he didn't recognize. The others weren't with him. It hadn't restarted.

America stood. "Ugh. All I wanted to do was play a video game. Is that too much to ask for?"

He made his way down the street. He got about ten paces when he hit an invisible wall. He took a few steps back, holding his nose.

"What?"

A rustle behind him caused him to turn around.

America broke out in a grin. "Tony!"

"Game tutorial," Tony said, voice robotic. "Throughout the levels, you will be faced against a multitude of enemies. Before advancing to the real game, you will need to learn the controls to fight."

He stiffened. "Tony? I'm...I'm in Japan's game? But how?"

He was in a video game, like in the movies. It had to have been the storm. The power outage had to have transported him in the game. It made perfect sense.

America laughed. "This is awesome!"

* * *

_**Ve**_** - Italian; the equivalent of 'well'**

_**Hai**_** - Japanese; 'that is correct' or 'yes'**

**_Nani_ - Japanese; 'what'**

_**Mon ami**_** - French; 'my friend'**

**So, it was the lightning hitting the house that jump started the Virtual Reality program in the video game. I hope I made that clear.**

**By the way, do you have any thoughts about the roughly 3,000 word chapter lengths? Like, does it feel like that's dragging it out or are you fine with it?**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or followed! I really appreciate it! Hope you enjoyed.**


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